It's like I'm standing at the pitcher, and I'm asking me to hit home run.
It's been months, years.
I don't allow myself to do it.
I don't know what's holding me back.
I would give half my arm to even figure a little of it out.
And the scariest thing of all.
Is that when I write, I write with no emotions attached.
But this time, it's different.
You have my heart in your hands.
And that anything you do to it, might just kill me.
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